


A Real Pizza Work

by SocialBookWorm



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Lamp - Freeform, Making Pizza, Patton wants everyone to get along, Small sides, Teen Sides, Virgil used to be a jerk, can be read as platonic or romantic, cursing, fluff with slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialBookWorm/pseuds/SocialBookWorm
Summary: Traditions have to start somewhere. For some, later than others. Perhaps it was time to try and open one of their own up to Virgil again.





	A Real Pizza Work

**Author's Note:**

> *slides you this and goes back to school induced coma*

Logically, Logan knew this was the next step. If they truly wanted to _accept_ Anx- Virgil then they had to change just as much as the other side did. There would be discomfort on both sides of the conflict as they worked through past history. At least, that’s what all of his research told him. Extending this “olive-branch,” as Patton and Roman called it, would help immensely.

However, Logan could still remember the tear tracks on Patton’s face from the first time that they had tried this.

Granted, the circumstances had been different. Virgil had not been ready for them. They hadn’t been ready for him. Pesky emotions held him back, and Logan hated every inch of it. The hesitancy and ache in his chest was irrational. Virgil had proven that he wished no harm, to Patton least of all.

Patton himself currently hurried around the kitchen with an excitement that Logan had never- Well, that was a hyperbole. Logan had seen Patton that excited before, but it never came around often enough for Logan to stop observing it. It contented him, the grin that stretched over Patton’s face and the bounce in Patton’s step.

Perhaps that was why Logan only stood in front of Virgil’s door and didn’t knock quite yet.

He reached up to adjust his tie in a nervous tick. Roman might have been the better option for this. Patton would have been best, but Roman had agreed with Logan about letting him approach Virgil about it. They might all be turning over a new leaf, but change was difficult to establish in such a short period of time.

It… frustrated Logan.

He cleared his throat, more for himself than for anything else and raised his fist towards Virgil’s door. His knuckles barely rapped on the wood before it swung open and he meet Virgil’s wide eyes.

Virgil licked his lips nervously and looked at a point just over Logan’s shoulder. “You never- you never come to my room.”

A sharp pang of regret ran through Logan’s chest. It was another mistake to add to his pile. He had seen Patton being turned away at Virgil’s door and never bothered to try himself. Would things have been different if he had? Would Logic have been able to reach where Morality could not?

He shook his head of the thought.

“Strictly speaking,” Logan pointed out, “I was in your room just a few weeks-”

“You were dragged to my room,” Virgil cut him off. His eyes skittered to Logan’s, accusation written in them before glancing away again. Logan’s brow drew together in confusion. Once again, he realized that Patton would have been a better person to hold this conversation. He at least would understand what bothered Virgil. “You didn’t want to be there.”

Ah, or perhaps Logan could handle it on his own.

“Falsehood,” Logan said gently. Virgil’s eyes snapped to his and stayed there for once. Good. Logan preferred if there was no room for miscommunication in this. “We all decided to go to your room together. If one of us truly didn’t want to be there, then we would have let the others go on without us.”

The tips of Virgil’s ears turned pink when he felt embarrassed. Logan had never noticed before. It was, as Patton would have put it, objectively adorable. Virgil’s scoff didn’t ruin the effect, perhaps even heightening it as he shifted in place.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” Virgil stepped out, closing the door behind him. Sensible considering the effect of his room, Logan could set aside his curiosity over it for the moment. The tension in his shoulders didn’t relax, though Logan figured that they almost never would. “So uh, what did you need?”

Logan took in Virgil’s stiff posture, the way that he leaned against his door, hand still on the doorknob. Ready to flee at the slightest moment. Virgil didn’t trust them yet, but he wanted too. Logan took a deep breath. The feeling it seemed, was mutual from the way his own stress squeezed at the back of his head.

“I have no need of anything,” Logan said carefully, watching Virgil’s face for a negative reaction. “I- we-” He sighed and reached up to fiddle with his glasses. “I don’t know if you are aware, though it seems foolish to assume that you weren’t considering your heightened caution and the way that you observe your surroundings-”

“Logan,” Virgil cut him off again, sounding tired, “If you’re kicking me out of the new boy band, just tell me.”

“No!” They both startled at the force of Logan’s shout. Logan coughed, and tried not to glance away from Virgil. “No, uh, quite the opposite in fact.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. The disbelief made sense. Years of hurt would not disappear overnight. Much like Logan’s own reservations.

“Yeah, pull the other one, is it Thomas? I can get to him in under a minute if you need me to.”

Logan shook his head.

“I don’t need anything,” Logan repeated, “What I- _we want_ -” Logan made sure to stress the words so that Virgil knew the importance in them. Clear communication was the key. “Is to extend an invitation to you.”

“What is Princey holding a ball or something?”

“Or something,” Logan agreed. Virgil’s lips quirked upwards in amusement for reasons that Logan didn’t understand before twisting back down again. Patton could make Virgil smile; Logan would make it a goal to master the same skill.

“So what? A murder mystery party with me as the murder?”

“No- what?”

Virgil smirked at him though it did little to hide the nervousness in his eyes. Deflecting then, Logan deduced. Logan’s own nerves in simply stating what he was meant to had heightened Virgil’s anxiety. The fact that he tried not to show it was appreciated however.

“I mean, if you want to get me alone to kill me all you guys have to do is summon me,” Virgil continued. “It’s not like there’s anything I could do to win against all three of you.”

Logan took a deep breath. Not only could he conceive of several situations where Virgil emerged victorious against the three of them. Roman would have to be taken out first of course, as the most physically fit of the three. Then himself, as Patton would be crippled by grief-

“There is no premeditated murder planned,” Logan wrenched himself from his own thoughts. Old fears needed to be laid to rest. He plowed onward before Virgil could open his mouth again. “Our monthly pizza night.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. His shoulders slammed against his door as he drew back. Logan stepped forward, concern growing as Virgil’s face quickly lost most of its color. Logan reached out to steady him. Virgil flinched back, and Logan let his hand drop.

“Virgil,” Logan said softly. He eased himself downwards, relieved when Virgil copied his action. He searched Virgil’s eyes. He tried to find what set Virgil off, and finding none, offered what he always did. An explanation. “We wanted to extend an invitation to you, to join us tonight. We’ll be making our own pizzas and I have no doubt Patton will have more toppings than you can imagine laid out for you to choose from.”

Virgil made a gasping sort of sound. His hands flew up to his face, and clawed at his eyes. Logan reached out to tug them back down before he could harm himself. He pressed closer until his knees knocked against Virgil’s, and he could feel the way that Virgil trembled.

“I can’t- I don’t-”

“You’ve grown, Virgil,” Logan said quietly, almost soft enough to be a whisper. “You are no longer the person that you once were. You will not make the same mistake as you did back then. This is us, offering to try again. We want you there. _Patton_ wants you there.”

“He shouldn’t,” Virgil said, his voice caught between a gasp and the dark echoing hiss that signified the fact that he balanced on the edge of a panic attack.

“Perhaps you would have been correct before, but now I would dispute that claim,” Logan said. He pressed up against the warmth of Virgil’s body even more. “You spoke up for him, when Roman and I didn’t. You listen to him and care for him and look out for him. For _us_. If you do not want to go this month, then know that our invitation is an open door. Patton has waited years, I do believe that he’s willing to wait a little longer.”

Virgil’s trembling increased. Logan sighed, and reached out. Virgil didn’t pull away from him this time, and Logan tugged Virgil into his chest. Virgil’s arms latched around his waist, just shy of bruising and Logan settled back against the door. He carefully, hesitantly, wrapped his own arms around Virgil’s shoulders.

Perhaps Virgil cried. Perhaps he didn’t. Logan didn’t breathe a word about it either way.

* * *

Morality held on to his wrist, tugging Logic along excitedly. Logic stared at the point where they touched, wondering about the small hand that barely wrapped around his wrist. They had the same face and the same voice, yet they were so different. For example, Morality did things like this. Whatever _this_ was.

Morality glanced over his shoulder and pouted. Logic blinked.

“Come on,” Morality whined, “You said that we needed to as- aso- assassinate with each other! Which means-”

“Associate,” Logic corrected. Morality’s pout turned into a blinding grin. Logic didn’t get it. “I suggested that we associate with each other more in an effort to help further Thomas’s development through these trying times.”

“Yeah! Assassinate!”

“Assassinate means to murder an important person in a surprise attack for political reasons,” Logic said. He wished briefly that he had stayed in his room if this was what Morality wanted. His curiosity did not always yield positive results. Still, he couldn’t quite stop himself from following the urge to _learn_.

Morality stared at him, that grin falling away into clear horror. It gave Logic enough warning to brace himself before Morality flung himself forward. Logic stumbled back as Morality collided with him, wailing something incomprehensible about love and not dying and never. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air. He really wanted the other Side to let go.

They barely knew each other and hugging felt a little too... much.

Morality pulled his face again from Logic’s shoulder, much to Logic’s relief and looked up at him with watery eyes.

“No assassinations! Ever!” he said, and Logic nodded. Thankfully that seemed to be enough to get Morality to let go of him, swiping at his eyes. “We’re going to be a family! That means spending time with each other!”

“Ah-” Logic paused, “I would hesitate to call us a family. Associates maybe, or co-workers.”

Morality rolled his eyes.

“We’re like, twelve silly! We can’t be co-workers, we don’t have a job!” Morality giggled. He grabbed Logic’s hand and tugged him forward through the house they lived in once more. “Besides! We may not be a family now but we can be! All it takes is a little work!”

“I don’t believe that is how it-” Logic trailed off at the dark door in front of them. A chill ran down his spine, and Logic yanked his hand out of Morality’s to take a step back. Foolishly he thought he saw shadows curling around the frame of the door. He clasped his shaking hands together and leaned forward to hiss at Morality.

“You can’t be serious!” Morality tilted his head to the side at Logic’s words. “Asking- asking- asking him is the height of foolishness! He’s done nothing but cause problems!”

“So have I! So has Creativity! And you’re still friends with us!” Morality reached out for the door and Logic snatched at his arm to hold him back.

“I’m not friends with any of you,” Logic hissed quietly. Some part of him worried that the Side behind the door could still hear him. Illogical, childish, foolish. Morality’s lips wobbled at his words and Logic sighed. Begrudgingly, he allowed, “We are acquaintances.”

Morality brightened right up; Logic couldn’t keep up with his pendulum like moods.

“You think I’m quaint!” Morality squealed. Logic sidestepped the oncoming hug, and hoped that Morality might have forgotten about his goal. Morality wrapped his arms around himself, lacking Logic’s body to hug and bounced on the balls of his feet. “See you do like me! You’ll like Anxiety too!”

Logan’s hands spasmed. He thought about sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. Even the memory of Anxiety’s voice raised goosebumps along his arms. He couldn’t pinpoint what, but something simply felt _off_ about the other Side.

“Morality-”

Too slow. Morality skipped forward and knocked on Anxiety’s door. Logic would have sworn his heart stopped if he didn’t know that it was impossible. The echo of the knocks hung in the air, and Logic wondered if they had lucked out and Anxiety wasn’t in his room. The slow creak of the door and a dark eye peeking out of the crack told him how wrong he was.

“Wadda want?” Anxiety snapped. Logic winced at the tone, but Morality didn’t seem deterred. He waved happily at the half a face they could see, his grin growing impossibly wider.

“Hi friend!” Morality greeted Anxiety in the exact same way he had Logic. Logic didn’t know how to feel about that. Then he reminded himself that he didn’t care because he would be going back to his own room instead of following whatever foolishness Morality had planned.

“Not your friend,” Anxiety said, and Logic could see the way that Morality’s shoulders rose just a fraction. Not a good sign, but Morality didn’t falter.

“Well hello there anyways,” Morality said, “We were hoping to spend some time with you! We’re all gonna do something fun together!”

“What.”

Morality blinked. Logic felt a sense of foreboding grow and he wanted to reach out and tug Morality back. There weren’t any living shadows like Creativity claimed, but the shadows in Anxiety’s eye seemed real enough. Seemed much more dangerous than some fantasy.

“What what?”

“What are you doing.” Anxiety’s flat voice wrapped around Logic’s heart and his bad feeling about it all grew.

“Dunno yet?” Morality offered, “Do you have something in mind that we could do?”

Anxiety stared at them, and slowly opened his door a little bit more to look down his nose at Morality. Logic felt rooted to the spot. A similar phenomenon as someone not being able to look away from a disaster, Logic realized.

“That’s stupid,” Anxiety said slowly. Logic heard Morality suck in a sharp breath. “It’s stupid that you think anyone would want to spend time with you. You don’t _actually_ want to spend time with anyone. You just want attention. It’s annoying and stupid and selfish.”

Logic winced at the words. They might hold a fraction of the truth, but it seemed unfair and cynical to judge Morality for only one of his motivations. The genuineness in Morality’s voice couldn’t be fake; he might have wanted attention but he wanted them to get along as well.

“I just thought-” Logic inched forward half a step at the waver in Morality’s voice.

“ _You just thought,_ ” Anxiety echoed back mockingly. Anxiety’s door slid open a little bit more and he looked down his nose at Morality. “I’m surprised that you can think at all with the empty air that you’re full of. What? You think that we can be _nice_ and _kind_ and _get along_ with each other.”

Anxiety sneered at Morality.

“Logic doesn’t even want to be here.” Logic closed his eyes as Anxiety’s lips peeled back into something that could almost be a smile, if it lacked the malice etched into it. Morality sniffled, quietly yet as loud as a thunderclap as Anxiety slammed his door shut. Logic felt panic grow at the sound.

Morality’s legs buckled and he fell to the ground with a wail. Logic approached him cautiously, eyes on the black door. The chance that Anxiety would reemerge was fractional, but the chance was there. Then again, Logic held about as much chance of being able to comfort Morality as Anxiety did.

Logic’s hand hovered over Morality’s shoulder as sobs echoed through the hallway. He couldn’t quite bring himself to touch his fellow Side. What right did he have when he did nothing to prevent this?

“It-” he swallowed thickly and dropped his hand. “It will be alright.”

“No it won’t!” Morality wailed, his voice reaching a squeaky pitch. “He- he- he was _right_! I’m a horrible, no good, selfish, annoying-”

“Fiend!” Logic jolted back at the shout that joined the ruckus already there. Logic took a step back as Creativity threw himself between him and Morality. Creativity held an arm out wide in some imagined defense of Morality and pointed his sword at Logic’s face.

“What did you do to him?” Creativity demanded. Logic blinked at the gleaming metal between his eyes. Huh, and he had assumed that Creativity’s sword had been fake. Creativity scowled, yet it did nothing to match the expression that Logic had seen on Anxiety’s face.

“Nothing,” Logic said carefully, “I have done nothing.”

“Then get lost,” Creativity snapped. His sword dropped and spun to face Morality. “Mo! What can I do? What villain do I need to slay?”

Morality let out a string of sounds that Logic couldn’t even hope to decipher. From the stricken look on Creativity’s face, he could understand just fine. He reached out and Morality dove into his arms, pressing his no doubt sticky cheeks into Creativity’s neck and sobbing some more. Creativity crooned at him, some melody from a Disney movie though Logic couldn’t place which one.

“Is-” Logic cleared his throat, feeling a weight on his chest as both of them looked at him. Creativity with much more dislike than Morality did. Logic shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Is there anything that I can do?”

“No-”

Creativity’s voice died out as Morality whispered something. They both blinked at him. Morality swiped at his face; his lips still trembled.

“Can-” he took a deep breath, “Can we make pizza?”

“Of course!” Creativity shouted. Logic thought about the books he could be reading, the things that he could learn, the job he had to do. He stared down at the two of them, still wrapped up in each other. He could see the mess they would make of the kitchen, flour and butter and sauce everywhere.

“Very well,” Logic said softly, said anyways, “I believe that we can do that.”

Morality grinned at him, wobbly but no less bright. Just this once, Logic thought, he’d indulge them this once and then go back to watching Thomas grow. They didn’t need to repeat this.

* * *

Roman snapped his fingers, grinning at the music that started up from nowhere. It really was too bad that Logan wasn’t there yet. The look on his face whenever Roman added the proper ambiance could only be described as adorably frustrated. All scrunched up nose and fire in his eyes as he ranted about how it was impossible.

Pizza Night always called for certain things, and it had been long enough to call it all tradition so not even Logan could argue with him about it. Well, he could and did, but it felt more like part of the system they had going than any actual disagreement. Nestled in between starting a food fight with Patton, and falling asleep on the couch together.

They had the whole night down to a science.

Music, certain toppings, the movie that they would watch afterwards- Mickey, Donald, Goofy: The Three Musketeers, every time- even their places in the kitchen and on the couch were things Roman could rattle off the top of his head. Maybe that’s why he paced the room as Patton pulled out worn bowls and cracked wooden spoons. Nerves jittered under his skin like bugs, crawling around places that should have calmed him down.

“Hey Roman?” Roman spun on his heel to beam at Patton’s question. “Could you grab that bowl for me?” Roman glanced up at the bowl in question, the purple tint to it twisting around the lip and his stomach. He tried to shove the feeling down.

“Of course, my dear Patton!” He may have cheated, just a little bit, shapeshifting to reach the shelf that Logan had shoved the bowl as far back as possible on. Logan would be disappointed to learn Patton had probably known its location all along instead of having forgotten about it.

Roman presented the bowl with a flourish. Patton giggled, setting it down next to the other three already on the counter.

“My hero,” Patton teased. Roman laughed, holding his hands out. Patton took them, like he always had as far back as Roman could remember. Sometimes, only sometimes, he missed the days when he was just him and Patton giggling together with Logan and Virgil holed up forever in their rooms.

Roman bent down, bringing Patton’s hands up so he could kiss at Patton’s knuckles. The shy smile from Patton felt like a gift, and the way Patton opened up his arms even more so. Roman stepped into them gratefully, the familiar warmth and weight of Patton doing more to soothe him than the music ever could.

Roman pressed against him, cheek to cheek. He dug his fingers into Patton’s back as Patton ran a comforting hand down his spine.

“You’re wound up tighter than a spring, sweetheart.” Roman could feel Patton’s jaw move against his cheek. His lips and words brushed against Roman, lighter than a butterfly’s wings. Cheesy but true, just like Patton.

Roman burrowed into Patton’s hold even more. He felt like a petulant child just thinking about it. He didn’t want to say it out loud.

“He made you cry,” Roman finally muttered. He had a million other reasons to keep Virgil far far away, starting with his fashion sense and ending with everything he had done to hurt the others. More than anything though, the number of times that Virgil had hurt Patton specifically stuck with him.

Patton hummed, his hand coming up to run through Roman’s hair.

“Logan’s made me cry,” Patton said lightly, something close to amusement in his voice. Roman liked to think the others would have missed the off beat in it. “Dog movies make me cry. _I’ve_ made me cry. Virgil’s not quite so special in that regard.”

“‘ll fight all of them for you,” Roman told Patton’s neck. “‘ll make sure none of them hurt you ever again.”

Patton’s chuckle vibrated against his chest. Roman loved the sound of it. He felt like he could fly whenever Patton laughed and wasn’t that all Creativity needed? A little push from Emotions? He held onto Patton a little bit tighter, knowing that Patton would never let him fall.

“I love you too,” Patton said. His fingers twisted through Roman’s hair and if it wasn’t Pizza Night Roman would have dragged him to the couch for an hour or so of cuddling. He breathed deeply, taking in Patton’s scent, one that always reminded him of a sidewalk after rain.

“I’m not sure I’m ready,” Roman admitted, his fingers gripping at Patton’s shirt. It felt soft and worn under the tips of his fingers. So much like Patton, so easy to roughen up if they weren’t careful. Roman didn’t want Patton to lose his softness. “This- this is _ours_. It’s always been ours.”

“All the more reason to invite Virgil,” Logan cut in. Roman twisted his head to look at the resident nerd as he leaned against the counter. “Greetings Patton, Roman.” Logan tilted his head to the side. He didn’t say a word about their position; he could be nice like that. “The most likely option is that Virgil doesn’t show at all. It’s a rather large change after all. Our current objective is to allow for an open door.”

“Yeah!” Patton agreed, carefully shuffling Roman towards Logan. Roman reached out, hand grasping needily in the air until Logan took it with his own. Their joined hands rested on the table, just enough contact to go with the fact that if they had sat down Patton would have been on his lap. “We’re showing him that we’re willing to try!”

“Well maybe we can try a little less for now,” Roman muttered. He squirmed in Patton’s hold, who only tightened his grip. “We don’t have to risk everything for him.”

Logan stared at him steadily. Roman would have thought there was judgement in his gaze were it not for the hand still holding his. A grounding reminder that Logan cared, that Logan made the effort to spend time with them and get to know them.

“Would you not say that Virgil is already risking everything?” Logan asked quietly. Roman blinked at him. Patton squeezed him one last time before letting go and bustling to get the rest of the ingredients out for the night. “All he has is himself. His walls and his defenses and his coping, as ineffective and cruel as they may have been.”

“Yeah but-” Roman fell silent as Logan raised an eyebrow.

“We, by comparison, are risking very little. Virgil poses no real danger to our relationship, should we continue to communicate clearly and show our affection for each other, no matter what happens we’ll have each other.”

Roman swallowed thickly. He squeezed Logan’s hand, a soft smile growing on his face as Logan returned the gesture. God, they’d come so far. He didn’t want to reach the edge of this cliff only to learn they’d fall instead of fly.

“Sap,” he whispered roughly.

“Ah, well,” Logan grinned at him, “We are who we spend time with.”

Roman leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Logan’s. He breathed out slowly, focusing on the feeling of Logan’s fingers twisting through his and the sound of Patton’s footsteps through the kitchen. No matter what happened he wouldn’t lose the two wings he had learned to fly with. He had to hold on to that.

“Love you too, you nerd,” Roman whispered, a smirk growing on his face. “And! You just said it yourself! There’s no getting rid of us now!”

“Oh no,” Logan said, his voice as dry as the flour Patton put on the counter, “whatever shall I do?”

“Feed us?” Patton suggested, his grin cheeky.

“Serenade us!” Roman added.

“Babysitting,” Logan finished, nodding his head with all the wisdom in the world. Patton threw his head back in laughter while Roman took the route of an offended squak. He tried to whack Logan in the arm, but Logan sidestepped his attack. He even had the nerve to step over and help Patton with the food he carried.

How dare he be so perfect and kind.

“I don’t need any babysitting!” Roman shouted.

“I would beg to differ.”

Roman whirled at the voice, pointing an accusing finger at Virgil’s face. He opened his mouth to shout at Virgil, most likely something about how he was no longer welcome to even breath the same air as him. Logan shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble.

“Finally,” Logan said, his voice and face deadpan, “Another voice of reason. Maybe this time we won’t destroy the kitchen.”

“I can conjure a new one!” Roman protested. He took in the way that Virgil hovered at the door, one foot already on the outside. The fear in his eyes for all that his face twisted into a fearless and teasing smirk. So ready for it all to blow up in his face, especially after making it do just that for so long.

Patton’s hand pressed against his forearm. Logan stood steady and patient at his back. This had been Patton’s idea, in the end, and Roman couldn’t bring himself to deny Patton anything. Not really. Not when it really mattered.

“Well come on then, My Fear Diary,” Roman rolled his shoulders and gestured Virgil deeper into the kitchen. “Pizzas don’t make themselves.”

* * *

Creativity hummed as he strode towards the kitchen. Lunch time had passed not too long ago, so Logic would likely be getting something to eat. For someone who insisted that they didn’t actually need to eat or sleep, not being physically alive, he sure kept a tight schedule. Creativity wanted to call it boring but then Morality would get that _Look_.

The Look was to be avoided at all cost. Even if that meant not teasing their nerd about his habits.

Speaking of Morality, Creativity needed to find Logic so that he could check the house-castle Creativity finally finished building for Morality. It kept creaking and groaning and Creativity couldn’t figure out what the problem was. Logic would be able to point it out, and then Creativity would put the last touches on a present for Morality.

Creativity bounced into the kitchen, frowning at the lack of Logic. He resisted the urge to stomp his foot in frustration. They were teens now; he had to be cool! He turned to check Logic’s room, when a sniffing sound reached his ears. His heart sank.

Creativity hurried towards the movie room, with its big comfy couch and large TV (all courtesy of him), and most importantly, out of the way from their normal day to day activities. The door slammed against the wall as he threw it open, but he could fix them both. What he could never fix was the sight of Morality curled up on a corner of the couch sobbing.

He could never decide if the sight of Morality making himself as small and quiet as possible hurt him or if it made his blood boil in indescribable rage. He stepped over their plush rainbow carpet and knelt down in front of Morality. Offering to kill whoever caused this won’t help, even if Creativity knew exactly the person.

He didn’t think he hated anyone more than he did Anxiety.

“Mo,” Creativity said softly. Thankfully, that was all it took for Morality to unfold himself and dive at him. Creativity braced himself, his breath leaving his chest in a short, sharp burst as Morality collided with him. He wobbled slightly, but stood firm before wrapping his arms around Morality’s trembling shoulders.

“I got you,” Creativity murmured. He pulled Morality up and shuffled to two of them so he could cuddle Morality on the couch. A snap of his fingers and he tucked the fuzzy blanket that appeared around Morality’s shoulders. “I got you, sunshine.”

Morality shoved his face into his neck and Creativity reached over to pull Mo’s legs over his own. He hummed softly, rubbing circles into Morality’s thigh until gasping sobs petered out into quiet whimpers.

“Do you want me to get Lo?” Creativity asked softly. Morality shook his head, hard enough that Creativity pulled his head back to avoid being hit. His stomach sank to the bottom of his shoes. He had a pretty good guess about what had happened. “Did Anxiety use him this time?”

Silence. One short, trembling nod.

Creativity breathed out, trying to shove down his rising anger. Morality’s fear that Logic only hung around for efficiency had only just started to disappear. Using Logic to drive Morality away was a _low_ blow that made Creativity want to create something to tear the other Side apart. Anxiety seemed to have picked up on the fact that insulting Morality only worked so much, but anything related to the ones he loved took weeks to shake off.

“Are you sure I can’t slay him?” Creativity muttered.

The lack of response worried him more than anything else. Morality's defense of Anxiety may have been growing weaker and weaker as the years went by but they were always there. Creativity's grip tightened and he rocked back and forth, closing his eyes as he hummed. He didn’t know what else to do.

Morality insisted on talking to Anxiety, but every time he did things only got worse.

“I’m going to call Logic,” Creativity said. He reached out and focused on the distant feeling of logic. He _pulled_. Logic stumbled as he appeared in the room. The scowl on his face faded as his eyes caught sight of the scene in front of him. The sigh that came from his mouth matched the exhaustion that Creativity felt.

“Again?” he murmured quietly. Morality gripped at Creativity’s shirt even tighter as Logic stepped closer. Logic’s hand came to rest on Morality’s shoulder, and he hovered over the two of them awkwardly. “Must I remind you that Anxiety speaks exaggerations and falsehoods? We have no plans of leaving you any time soon.”

Logic sat down next to them, reaching out to hold one of Morality’s hands in his own. Creativity shifted closer to him, until his shoulder pressed against Logic’s. Morality leaned into Logic’s touch until his head rest on Logic’s shoulder. Morality sprawled half over each of them and Creativity pressed into them both.

“I-” Logic cleared his throat, “I find that I must ask why you insist on repeating this exercise Morality.”

Creativity felt Mo stiffen at those words. He ran a hand down Mo’s back to reassure him, eyes drifting to the admittedly childish masterpieces that they had hung up. Crayon drawings that Morality had done of them all that Creativity insisted on hanging up around the television. They were almost as adorable as the Side in their laps.

“He- I just-” Morality’s whole body shuddered as he took a breath, “It just didn’t feel right to leave him out of everything.” Creativity leaned forward to hear his whispers better. “He’s like us. He wants to make Thomas happy too. Doesn’t that make him a good person?”

Creativity exchanged a look with Logic. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, knowing that the words he wanted to spit out would do nothing to make Morality feel better at the moment. Logic closed his eyes for a brief second, then took a deep breath.

“May I ask you something Morality?” Logic said softly.

“Mmhm,” Morality nodded, rubbing at his eyes with a fist.

“How would you feel if you came upon one of us in this sort of state?” Creativity winced at the way Morality’s eyes widened in horror. He could feel the way Morality’s grip spasmed in his shirt and Logic pressed forwards almost ruthlessly. “It is that sort of emotion that we feel when we find you like this.”

“I just-” Logic held up a finger to cut Morality’s protests off.

“You routinely go to talk to Anxiety,” Logic continued, “Have you once had an encounter that does not leave you in tears?”

Morality bit his bottom lip.

“A few times?” Morality offered quietly. “We talked about Black Cauldron once.”

Logic raised an eyebrow.

“But the majority of your talks end in you being hurt do they not? That is not the sign of someone who cares about you. He has shown no effort to change his actions,” Logic said carefully. He let go of Morality’s hand to cup his cheek. “He is cruel not only to you but to everyone around him. _Maybe_ -” Logic stressed the word, “Maybe he is trying to help Thomas but he is doing so in the wrong way.”

Creativity nodded, jumping in before Morality could.

“Besides!” He pressed a kiss to Morality’s forehead. “ _You’re_ Thomas’s emotions. If he wanted Thomas happy, he’d be making _you_ happy, Pat of Your World.”

Morality slumped in their hold. He buried his face in Logic’s shoulder and Creativity ran a soothing thumb over his ankle. Something in Creativity’s chest soared.

“He-” Morality swallowed. “He does get us down.”

Creativity’s eyes widened and his grip on Morality’s ankle tightened. Had they finally managed to get through to him? Logic smiled down at Morality, and Creativity could see him squeeze Morality’s hand.

“We don’t like seeing you sad,” Logic whispered. Morality’s eyes fluttered shut, hiding those blue eyes from them. He nodded against Logic’s shoulder and happiness burst in Creativity’s chest.

“Okay,” Morality murmured, “Okay, no more than. I- I won’t try again.”

Creativity beamed at him, then hesitated. For a moment he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, but nothing was there. The door to the room sat where he had thrown it open, light from the hallway spilling through.

“Good,” he said fiercely, turning back to Morality. He untangled Morality’s hand from his back and brought it up to his lips to kiss at his knuckles. The way Morality’s face turned bright red felt like a special treat. “We love you, you know that.”

“Indeed,” Logic agreed. “We are-” he hesitated. “We are best friends, and we’ll look out for each other.”

Morality smiled up at both of them. Logic squeezed his hand one last time, and leaned back to press his shoulder against Creativity’s before nudging them both to move. They both whined at him.

“Hydration is imperative after crying,” Logic said, poking at their sides, “and some sunlight wouldn’t go amiss either.”

“Bowling outside and then our usual Pizza night?” Creativity suggested.

“Can flowers mark the lane?” Morality asked, letting Logic pull him to his feet.

“For you,” Creativity said, “I’d make the sky purple, my dear Morality-”

“Patton,” Morality cut him off, a slight blush making its way back up his face. His lips twisted up into a shy smile as he glanced between both of them. “Best friends should know each other’s names right?”

“Well,” Creativity took a deep breath as Logic stared at Mo- Patton in wonder. He swept his arm around his waist as he bowed to Patton, and looked up at Patton through his lashes, “It is the greatest pleasure to meet you Patton. You may call me Roman.”

“Logan,” Logic added softly.

Patton beamed at both of them, and held his hands out. There was never a question of what happened next. Logan and Roman both reached back and took his hand. They would do nothing else.

* * *

He hadn’t been able to stay there for long.

Laughter echoed from the kitchen. Virgil could feel the warmth coming from inside the room even slouched up against the hallway wall. He closed his eyes and picked at the seams of his hoodie. Logan’s smooth voice said something, just distant enough that Virgil couldn’t make out. Roman’s replied and Patton’s giggle added to the mix of sounds.

Virgil couldn’t name the emotions that churned in his stomach. Something lighter than anxiety but not quite as smooth as anticipation. The side of guilt and bitterness didn’t help things. Logan’s new mantra seemed to be that things wouldn’t change overnight but Virgil didn’t know if that helped at all. He felt bitter at himself, for everything he did. At them, for not trying harder to make it all work.

At the world in general, but then again that wasn’t anything new.

All it would take was a step. All he had to do was step forward, and they said they’d welcome him. They’d let him join in on the warmth and fun and laughter that came from the kitchen like clockwork, once a month. Virgil couldn’t quite remember when it started with consistency, but he did know that he would never forget the number of times that he had sent Patton and his invitation away in tears.

His fingers dug into his arms.

Virgil cracked his eyes open and if he tilted his head he could see Patton bent over a bowl, working away at his pizza dough. Flour already streaked along his cheeks, and Virgil wrestled down the _want_ that surged through him. He wanted to rub the flour off of Patton gently and run his hand through his hair to watch the white dust fall from it like stars in the sky.

 _Fuck_.

It wasn't anything he deserved.

Virgil hunched his shoulders folding in on himself as he simply watched like he had for so long. Logan leaned over to point something out about Patton’s dough. Roman flicked some flour at Logan’s face, and laughed at the affronted look that crossed Logan’s face. The sound carried all the way to Virgil and Virgil _ached_.

They wanted him there. God knows why they did, but they had left the door open for him, quite literally. Virgil took a shaky deep breath and gripped himself hard enough to bruise. He had disappointed them enough for a lifetime, probably would never be able to make it up to them even if he tried. But hell if he wasn’t going to _try_.

Which meant that he had to go back. He had to join them in this attempt to patch things up and not run away like he had for the past two decades. The whole thing felt suffocating in the best way and that terrified him almost as much as the idea that he was leaving himself vulnerable. Opening up meant that they could hurt him.

Hurt him like he had hurt them.

“Die-mond in the Rough? You alright?” Virgil didn’t realize that his hands had buried themselves in his hair until Roman’s voice broke through his thoughts. Virgil looked up at him, at the one Side he had been so certain would never forgive him and couldn’t help the way that his mouth just-

opened.

“Why?” he whispered.

Roman blinked at him.

“Why what?”

“Why-” Virgil waved at the kitchen. “Why forgive me? Why invite me? Why- how- I don’t- I don’t _understand_.”

Roman stared at him, something dark and unreadable in his eyes. Well, great job Virgil, now Roman was going to tell him that it had all been a mistake and he needed to slink back to the shadows where he belonged. He’d realize that this was all a big mistake that Virgil would mess it all up, fall back into old habits-

“Why not?” Roman challenged. Virgil froze, staring up at him with wide eyes. Roman sighed and ran a flour covered hand through his hair. Virgil flinched as Roman stepped forward. Roman faltered for half a second before that same stubbornness crossed his face and he kept going until he settled against the wall right next to Virgil.

Even leaning like that, he seemed to embody grace and power in a way that Virgil could never even hope to accomplish. Confidence in everything he did, confidence that Virgil had always tried to tear apart. Fuck, it had to be criminal to look that good.

“You know, I didn’t hate you until the first time that you made Patton cry,” Roman said, easy as if he was talking about the weather. Virgil flinched, hard enough that he jolted back from where Roman’s shoulder almost touched his own.

Roman’s hand shot out, and wrapped around his wrist to pull him back. Pulled him all the way to his chest. Virgil almost short circuited. Roman ran just as warm as Virgil always thought he would, and it took all he had not to wrap his arms around Roman’s waist and never let go. Just to start with, he would probably start crying and not only did no one have time for that shit but also he would die from embarrassment.

Roman’s hand didn’t leave his wrist. It felt like a brand on his skin even as Roman wrapped his other arm around his shoulders. Roman tugged him down until they sat on the floor, Virgil trapped between Roman’s legs and held carefully in Roman’s arms.

“You make him laugh now,” Roman said softly. “You put a light in Logan’s eyes, you keep Thomas safe. How could I not invite you? Forgiveness- will take time, but as Logan likes to remind us it’s needed on both sides.”

Roman’s chest moved, up and down with his breath and Virgil thought for a moment it felt terribly fragile.

“You make us _better_ ,” Roman said, repeating the words he said back in Virgil’s room. “You worked hard to become that person. The boy who made Patton cry, I’ll hate until my dying day. The man who looks out for him though.”

Roman looked down at him with a nervous smile.

“I think I’d be proud to call him a friend.”

“Virgil? Roman?” Virgil shoved at Roman’s chest in blind panic at Patton’s voice. He toppled backwards, Roman’s squawk of surprise ringing in his ears as the world spun. He blinked, clearing his vision. Patton and Logan leaned out of the doorway and stared at both of them. Virgil wondered when they had started walking on the roof- oh he was upside down.

“I believe that they are fine,” Logan said dryly. Patton giggled, and Virgil couldn’t stop staring at the flour still streaked across his cheek. “If they wish to rough house out here then I propose we finish the pizzas ourselves.” Logan’s eyes drifted past him to Roman. Virgil approved of the smirk on his face.

“Mushrooms will do for the toppings I believe.”

Roman screeched. Virgil couldn’t help the snicker that slipped from his lips, and if anything Logan’s smug look grew at the sound. Patton beamed at them all, for reasons that Virgil would never understand. He’d like to try at least, for the first time in his life he wanted to try.

Patton held out his hand and Virgil took it.

He watched as Roman lunged at Logan, screaming something about the sanctity of pizza and not infecting it with parasites. Logan laughed. Laughed! He dodged around the kitchen island, keeping it between him and Roman as much as he could.

Virgil turned at the feeling of someone staring at him and met Patton’s eyes. Patton’s grin grew and he winked at Virgil. He lead Virgil to the bowl of half done dough that he had abandoned. Virgil stared down at it, wondering if the mess in it looked anything like their first attempts at making pizza.

He barely placed his hands back into the bowl to finish kneading it when something wet and thick collided with his back. He froze. Silence filled the room. Virgil turned slowly to meet Roman’s horrified face. His eyes dropped to the spoon dripping with sauce in Roman’s hands.

“Well,” he said slowly, “If that’s the way it’s going to be.”

He reached behind himself and grabbed the first thing his fingers brushed against. He stepped forward, and before anyone could say anything, upended the bag of flour over Roman’s head. White dust flew everywhere and Roman coughed and spluttered.

“There,” Virgil said smugly, ignoring the pounding of his heart. “Now we’re even.”

Needless to say, the kitchen descended into chaos.

* * *

Anxiety pulled his hood up a little higher, hiding his face in the shadows. He shoved his hands into the hoodie pocket and leaned back against the wall. He could hear the clatter of bowls and giggling that came from the other Sides. The sound scraped against his chest like shattered glass and Anxiety slumped farther down into the dark.

They were all so stupid. Something could happen. They could burn themselves, or the pizzas could turn out horrible and they’d all hate each other. The stove could break. They could lose track of time and a fire would start, or-

Anxiety tried to write it all off as his usual nerves, but the bitter tinge to it made it near impossible. It was his own damn fault; this situation at least could clearly be laid at his feet. He had thought Morality wanted to prank him at first, but even when it became clear that wasn’t the case, Anxiety had kept pushing him away. So convinced that Morality wouldn’t be able to stand him, would give up on him one day, that he made his own self-fulfilling prophecy.

Guilt and anger rolled in his gut. Morality had _given up_ on him. They didn’t think he could be anything more than a villain. His fingers twisted the cloth under their grip. Logic and Creativity made it clear that no matter what he did, they never accept him. If he stayed out of their way, they hated him. If he tried to interact with them, they’d hate him even more.

He bet that even if he tried to change they wouldn’t let him.

Morality’s giggle made him falter. For a moment all he could think about was that same sound directed at him as they discussed Disney movies. One of the few times that Anxiety hadn’t felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin in panic, and one of the few times that he hadn’t taken that feeling out on Morality.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage. Even when someone reached out to pet him, he lashed out with claws and sharp words. Until no one wanted to approach him again.

Anxiety turned, craning his head so that he could look through the doorway into the kitchen. Creativity held a giggling and red-faced Morality in a headlock. Logic rolled his eyes, and with sharp precision twisted Creativity’s arm until he let go. Morality’s giggles burst into full laughter, even as Logic leaned over to brush his lips against Creativity’s cheek.

Ferocity exploded in Anxiety’s chest. He spun sharply on his heels and stalked away from the scene. Fine. _Fine_. They wouldn't accept his mistakes? They wanted a villain? Then they’d _get one_.

It wasn’t like he could ever hope to join them anyways.

* * *

Patton loved the way that their home smelled after Pizza Night. Garlic, pepperoni, and warm cheese had long ago come to mean that they were safe and loved and together. The kitchen would need to be cleaned up in the morning, especially after Logan had dumped the rest of the carton of milk over Roman and Virgil’s heads.

Patton giggled softly at the memory. Logan grumbled softly, the arm around Patton’s waist tightening as Patton’s chest vibrated. Patton leaned into the touch even more, feeling Virgil’s head slip from his shoulder to his chest. Roman’s weight over his legs kept him warmer than any blanket; Roman’s head pillowed on Logan’s thighs and his legs tangled with Virgil’s.

The movie they had been watching cast the dark room in a dim blue light. The menu played on repeat, and Patton really should sleep. All he wanted in the moment was to bask in feeling of having everyone he loved around him. In the happiness that hung in the room, in the four half eaten pizzas scattered about, in the fact that they were all, _finally_ , together.

Patton sighed happily, and Virgil shifted on his chest.

“Sleep, Pat,” Virgil murmured.

Patton wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders, careful not to jostle any of the others too much. He felt fit to bursting with happiness.

“Love you,” Patton whispered.

“Love you too,” Virgil said, his voice tired and adorably grumpy. “Now sleep.”

Patton giggled one last time, settling into the pile of love and sleep. He wouldn’t sleep for a while, not when things were so perfect. It was alright. He just wanted to savor it a little while long. The feeling of a perfect Pizza Night.


End file.
